Switch
by Brynneth
Summary: Nathaniel finally gains the confidence to turn the tables on Zevran, and both acknowledge their feelings for each other.  The sequel to my stories, Heirloom and Honor.  Contains explicit material.


**Title: **Switch

**Characters: **Zevran, Nathaniel

**Rating:** M for explicit m/m relationship, mild BDSM

**Summary: **Nathaniel finally gains the confidence to turn the tables on Zevran, and both acknowledge their feelings. Sequel to Heirloom and Honor.

The vast throne room of the Denerim Palace had been transformed into a festive banquet hall. The pillars and balconies were adorned with gay, multi-colored banners, and golden tassels hung from the torches. Along the walls, heavy wooden tables offered food and delicacies from all over Thedas. Near the throne, a group of minstrels played lively folk music that echoed off the stone walls. Everywhere Nathaniel looked, nobles were gathered in groups, drinking wine and making pleasant conversation. He could feel their curious glances darting in his direction, but no one seemed inclined to approach him. _Ah, the effects of the Howe curse_, he thought. _Don't get too close to a Howe! Becoming a traitor is contagious!_ He smiled to himself sardonically and drained his goblet of wine. When one particular, high-born lady openly stared at him, he raised the empty goblet in salute and gave her a sarcastic bow. She glared and whispered to her husband, and the couple moved away. Chuckling evilly to himself, Nathaniel beckoned to a servant and obtained a fresh glass of wine.

"Scaring off the nobility, Nate?" The Commander appeared at his elbow, watching the offended couple walk away. Nathaniel took in her appearance with open admiration. She wore a beautiful, royal blue, full-length dress, the bodice adorned with lace and ribbons. Her hair was piled high and secured with silver, glittering pins. It was unusual to see Elissa Cousland wearing anything except her beloved drakescale armor.

"I'm just keeping my poor, diseased soul away from their proper, virtuous ones." He grimaced. "On a more pleasant note, you look quite marvelous tonight, Commander."

She shuddered and laughed good-naturedly. "I feel like a child's dressed-up doll. Seriously, my skin is itching for my armor. The sooner we get back to Amaranthine, the happier I'll be."

"I'll second that idea," sighed Nate. "I hope Anora isn't planning on having a celebration every year in memory of the archdemon's fall."

"Eh, after a few years, the people of Ferelden will start to forget the Blight and what so many people sacrificed to defeat it." Elissa looked away, sadly. "Even in Amaranthine, they will forget how close the darkspawn came to destroying everything they held dear." She shook her head as if to shake off the bad memories and took a long gulp of wine. "I think it's long past time that they quit blaming you for your father's deeds."

"I doubt that time has arrived yet," said Nathaniel. "Please don't concern yourself with it, Commander." He stared down into his cup, the wine as red as the blood left in the wake of his father.

Elissa glared in the general direction of the crowd. "I _do_ concern myself with it, Nate. You have proved yourself above and beyond my expectations. And these...idiotic... _nughumpers_... are too blind to see the truth!"

Nathaniel laughed. "I see you have been spending too much time with Oghren. Where is he anyway?"

"Knowing him, he's probably drunk and passed out under a table. At least, I _hope_ he's under a table and not in sight of Anora." She giggled into her goblet. "Actually, hiding from Anora under a table doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

"What shall we do under a table?" They glanced around to see Anders standing behind them, cradling a mug of beer. "If it involves removing these itchy dress robes, I'm in. If it involves more drinking and some heavy petting, I'm definitely in!" Elissa laughed while Nathaniel winced.

"If you're going to remove your robes, you can do that somewhere else, Anders," grumbled Nate. "I attract enough negative attention here without you adding to it."

"I'll bet if I were Zevran, you wouldn't say that," grinned Anders. Nathaniel flushed and looked away. He was well aware that the Vigil's Keep Wardens knew about his closeness with Zevran, even though they were both careful to avoid any public displays of their affection. Secrets were hard to maintain in such close quarters. Not that Zevran _cared _about keeping their relationship private. It was only at Nathaniel's request that the elf restrained himself from making any flagrant gestures towards Nate when others were around.

"Where is Zev? I haven't seen him yet," mused Elissa.

Nathaniel shrugged. "I haven't seen him either, but he did say he would never miss a party, even if it's not an Antivan one." He rolled his eyes as Elissa chuckled.

Anders tugged at the Commander's sleeve. "Elissa, I have a Warden's appetite, and I'm going to faint from hunger if we don't go sample some of this delectable food. Come on!"

"Okay, Anders. Maker only knows, I don't want to have to drag your unconscious body out of the hall." She shook her head fondly at Anders and patted Nate's arm. "Don't hide in the corner all night, Nate. At least enjoy some food; it's coming out of Anora's pocket." Grinning, she followed Anders to the banquet area.

With a weary sigh, Nathaniel slowly made his way along the edge of the crowd, noting the faces of certain nobles he remembered from his youth. The Ferelden upper class was in high spirits tonight. Not only was it the first anniversary of the Blight's end, but Anora had also just announced her engagement to Bann Ceorlic. The upcoming wedding would be a huge event, and the nobles were buzzing with excitement. He sincerely hoped that he would not be required to attend. Spotting some _chocolat_ on a nearby banquet table, he smiled to himself. The rare dessert was a favorite of Zevran's, and he wanted to secure some for the elf before it disappeared. As he started to turn away from the crowd, a flash of familiar golden hair caught his eye.

He felt his breath catch at the sight of the assassin. Zevran's flaxen hair was pulled back at the neck by a leather loop from which hung several feathers. His leather tunic was a deep, forest green with fringes of gold at the shoulders and bottom hem. His trousers were a rich, earthy brown, also trimmed down each side with golden fringe. Knee-high soft leather boots decorated with feathers completed the attractive ensemble. The dark tones brought out the molten gold of his eyes, which flashed as he laughed with the lovely woman with whom he was conversing. Nathaniel recognized her as the daughter of a northern bann, and she was quite attractive.

_Chocolat_ forgotten, Nathaniel absently twirled the stem of his goblet between his fingers while he watched Zevran and the woman. Even though he wasn't close enough to hear their words, it was quite clear that the lady was flirting with the elf. Nate felt a surge of... something... deep in his gut. _Maker, am I jealous? _Zevran had not been sharing his bed for very long, and he certainly had no claim over the assassin. Although their time spent in private was quite intense, neither had expressed their feelings in words. In truth, he wasn't sure if there _were_ any feelings involved, or if it was merely lust that drove them together. He watched the two of them closely, both of his hands clenching the cup as a darkness threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, Zevran gave the woman a short bow and stepped away. The lady had a rather petulant look on her face, and glared at Zevran's back as the elf headed for the food-laden tables. Nathaniel relaxed and watched as Elissa approached Zevran, her back to Nathaniel. As Zevran turned to face her, a growing smile on his face, his eyes found Nate's. Immediately, both men went still, eyes locked in a burning gaze, as if a bolt of lightning had leaped between them. Nathaniel felt heat coiling between his legs, a slight tremor in his hands causing the goblet to shake slightly. A small part of him marveled that the sight of Zevran, of his _lover_, could so completely unravel his composure. His desire for the _chocolat_ melted away to be replaced with an entirely different sort of hunger, and he could see a similar need mirrored in those amber eyes.

Elissa noticed Zevran's distraction and glanced behind her. When she saw Nate, she smiled gently and whispered something to Zevran. With a quick wink at Nathaniel, she walked away towards Anders, who was still filling his plate. The assassin walked slowly over to Nathaniel, his eyes quite deliberately moving down and then back up, leaving Nathaniel feeling as if he had been unknowingly undressed and left naked for Zevran's appraisal.

"My Warden, you look... simply _ravishing_ if I may be allowed to say so." He moved quite close to Nathaniel, their size difference forcing the elf to tilt his head back to retain eye contact.

"Thank you. Your outfit... suits you." _By Andraste, that sounded _lame_. _Wanting to show Zevran that his appearance was definitely more than suitable, he reached out and lightly stroked the feathers in Zevran's hair. His fingers brushed against the tip of Zevran's ear quite deliberately, and he heard a distinctive intake of breath from the elf. It took a rather large amount of effort to pull his hand away from those tattoos, which were just_ begging_ to be touched.

"_Mi amigo_, you are sorely tempting me tonight, and you _know_ how dangerous that is, given my lack of inhibitions." His voice was soft and smooth as silk. "Or are you feeling a need to mark your territory?" Zevran smirked knowingly, guessing that Nathaniel had witnessed his interaction with the woman earlier.

Nathaniel swallowed thickly. "Are you _mine_ to mark, Zevran?" He held himself perfectly still, carefully watching Zevran's reaction to a question he hadn't even known he was going to ask.

The elf was silent, his face smooth and calm. Only his eyes betrayed a quick flicker of surprise in the brief raise of an eyebrow, followed by something _very_ intense in those golden depths.

"If you wish to mark me, then I suppose that would make me yours, _amigo_." It was a challenge, Nathaniel realized. He had put Zevran on the spot, and the assassin was calling him on it. A rush of rarely felt emotion was fighting its way to the surface and suddenly, no one in the room even mattered except for Zevran. He reached out, cupped Zevran's tattooed cheek in his hand, and lowered his lips to the elf's. Immediately, the assassin's lips parted, and a hot tongue seared its way into his mouth. Nathaniel lost himself in the sensation of wet heat as Zevran's tongue explored his mouth thoroughly. He was barely even aware of his hand moving back to grip Zevran's ponytail, forcing the Antivan to bend back slightly as Nathaniel deepened the kiss, biting and sucking at Zevran's lower lip. _Maker, but there is nothing else quite like this_, he thought.

Awareness broke through the fog of desire, and he suddenly remembered where they were. He ended the kiss abruptly, releasing his hold on Zevran's hair with great reluctance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blatant stares of those nearby, who had formed quite a captive audience. Flushing, he ignored them, focusing his attention on the elf who of course, was grinning in sheer triumph. His nonchalance did not fool Nathaniel, however. He saw the naked desire burning in Zevran's eyes and felt the elf just _barely_ thrust his hips against Nate. He kept his voice low enough that only Zevran would hear him.

"So now that I have marked you, you are most decidedly _mine_ tonight, Zevran. I trust you know where my room is?"

The elf lifted one corner of his mouth. "Of course, my dear Warden. Shall I present myself there later?"

"See that you do." Allowing himself a small smile, Nathaniel turned and left the hall. There was much to prepare.

#####

Zevran glided gracefully down the hall that housed the guest bedrooms in the Palace. His thoughts were fully occupied with the scene that had occurred earlier in the throne room. Nathaniel had proved to be most surprising. The Howe was unfailingly reserved outside the privacy of his room, and had never before bent from any pressure applied by Zevran. Tonight had definitely provided a new aspect to their relationship, one that Zevran found quite pleasant. A shiver of anticipation raced up his spine at the prospect of Nathaniel taking the initiative this evening, which he clearly intended to do.

Nathaniel's door opened swiftly at his knock, and Zevran entered, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Before he could identify much, Nathaniel stepped neatly in front of him, obscuring his view. He wore only a soft pair of leather trousers, having discarded his shirt and boots. The lines of his well-toned muscles were sharply defined in the flickering light of the hearth fire. In one hand, he held a black silk cloth. His eyes still burned with the same harsh intensity that Zevran had witnessed earlier.

"As much as I like how those clothes look on you, I want them off, Zevran. Undress please." His tone left no question as to exactly who was in charge tonight. Zevran complied swiftly, draping his clothes over a nearby chair. He stood calmly, content to allow Nathaniel to take the lead, a rare occurrence since the man was still adjusting to breaking down old barriers. Nathaniel stepped behind Zevran and gently tied the black silk over the assassin's eyes.

"There is more than one way to mark someone, as you well know, Zevran." Nathaniel's voice was slightly rough and commanding. "Over the past several weeks, you have released me from years of inhibition, and for that I am grateful. Are you ready to handle the fruit of your efforts?" Zevran could feel Nate's calloused fingers tracing the tattoos on his back, bringing goose bumps to his bare skin.

"_Mi amigo_, I have been waiting for nothing less." Zevran gasped slightly as Nate bit down hard on his shoulder. "Do as you wish." He felt hands in his hair, releasing the customary braids and removing the festive feathers. Fingernails scraped against his sensitive scalp as Nathaniel raked his fingers carelessly through the silky hair. The fingers withdrew, and small pass of air indicated that Nathaniel was moving to stand in front of him. The fingers returned, this time forming a heated path over the tattoos that twined intricately on his chest.

"These tattoos are most enticing, Zevran. Is that why you had them done?" The exploring fingers dipped lower, following one line that swirled down to his groin.

"Not entirely, my Warden." His breath hitched as one finger ran along his rapidly hardening length. "However, they have seemed to please my lovers and thus serve a most pleasurable purpose." Again the fingers withdrew, leaving his skin craving more attention.

"Indeed, they do please me. Your compliance will also please me, my beautiful assassin. Come." A hand gripped his elbow, and he was guided toward the fireplace, which he was able to discern from the feeling of its heat on his skin. He felt fur beneath his feet, likely some kind of animal skin rug. "Get on your hands and knees, Zevran." He obeyed, his arousal continuing to grow as he assumed the submissive position. He tilted his head, his ears tracking Nathaniel's movements as he moved away briefly and then returned.

"You will hold perfectly still unless I say you can move." Uncertain of what was coming, Zevran tensed slightly. He almost jumped when he felt drops of something wet strike the taut skin of his back. Warm hands then began to caress his back, spreading the drops of what he now realized were some kind of oil. A pleasant scent of mint reached his nose. The hands moved languorously, firmly rubbing the oil into his skin. Once his back was covered, the hands moved beneath him to his chest, applying more oil as they caressed each and every muscle. Against his better judgment, Zevran found himself relaxing into the massage, his member stiffening even more as Nathaniel moved his hands down to his groin and buttocks. A gasp escaped his lips as the hands moved to his sac, caressing his balls before moving forward to stroke oil along his length. By now, it was proving a struggle to hold still, his hips straining against the urge to buck against that glorious pressure. Calloused fingers circled the head of his length, teasing as they mixed oil with the liquid seeping from the swollen tip. A soft groan fought its way from deep within his chest.

As suddenly as they had come, the delightful caresses were gone. His ears strained for any clues as to what was coming next, but he heard nothing. With sight and sound gone, his mind began to notice the feel of the oil on his skin, and with surprise, he felt a strange tingling warmth spreading across his torso. The oil was obviously more than just plain oil; some kind of herbal essence in it was creating a flush of heat that followed the same path Nathaniel's hands had created. As it reached his sac and manhood, he gasped with pleasure.

"Does it feel good, Zevran?" Nate's low voice held a definite note of amusement.

"You are truly devious, my Warden." Zevran dug his fingers into the fur of the rug as the tingling intensified.

"More than you know." Tracking Nate's voice told him that the man was now standing behind him. "You see, the oil has quite a pleasant effect on unbroken skin, but when cuts are applied, it creates quite a _different_ sensation." Before Zevran had a chance to really think about this, there a was a hiss of rent air followed by a flash of fire across his back. Unprepared, his body jerked with the sudden pain.

"Hmm... disobeying me already, Zevran? You should know that will only increase your punishment." Another lash and pain flared across his shoulders, but this time he was ready and willed his muscles to stillness. Within seconds, he began to understand Nathaniel's comment about the oil. Where the whip had fallen, his saturated skin had begun to burn, much more so than was normal with a whipping. The previously soothing warmth transformed into a raging fire that grew with each passing second as the oil settled into the welt. Beads of sweat laced Zevran's brow, but he remained immobile.

The whipping began in earnest then. Nathaniel was methodical and quite relentless. Each lash moved across his back in increments, never overlaying a previous welt. By the time the whip had reached his buttocks, Zevran was clenching his fists as the welts flared into flames across his slick skin. Not unsurprisingly, his erection grew with the pain, drops of precum falling to the rug below. The whipping ceased but the fire across his back actually increased as the lacerations continued to absorb the oil. There was no relief, no escape from the searing pain.

"Turn over onto your back, arms out to the side and legs spread." Trembling just a little from the strain, Zevran obeyed, flinching as the soft fur rubbed against his welts, irritating them further. This position left him completely vulnerable, and he was acutely aware of the untouched oil on his sac and member. Fingernails dragged over his engorged length and probed into the slit at the tip. His control slipped, and his hips bucked, seeking friction.

"Nathaniel... _please_." His whisper was hoarse with need.

The fingernails continued their slow torture. "Surely, you can't expect me to spare even this part of you? Or are you begging for me to give it equal attention? What do you wish, Zevran?"

The assassin licked his lips, his head tilting back in pleasure as Nathaniel again probed the sensitive slit. "Do not... spare me."

"Very well." The fingers withdrew. "You may move if you have to, but you will keep your legs and arms spread and you will _not_ come." He felt Nate's hand fist into his loose hair, pulling his head back. Something soft and supple trailed across his throat to his lips. He felt a hot tongue flick against the tip of his ear. "I want to see you dance for me, Zevran," whispered Nate.

Then the sensual torture began again. This smaller whip was made of softer leather, but the stinging was every bit as intense as the oil seeped into the small cuts left on his cock. Zevran surrendered his control to the pain and writhed mindlessly beneath the assault, barely even aware of the hot tears that wet his blindfold. Pleasure and pain blended together in an endless, exquisite fire that burned to his very core. His back arched again and again with each lash, his moans becoming pants as the growing heat built in intensity, bringing him to the very edge.

"Nate, I _can't_... " His words were barely coherent as his restraint began to unravel. Immediately, the whipping stopped, and his blindfold was ripped away. The light from the nearby fire flickered across the shadows of his lover's face hovering above him. The burning need in Nathaniel's eyes was so intense, it actually caused Zevran to still for a moment. Surprisingly gentle fingers brushed at the wet tracks on his cheeks.

"_Zev_..." That one word carried so much feeling, it tore through to Zevran's soul. Dominance gave way to tenderness as Nate's lips met his and a probing tongue entered his mouth. Nate pressed his body against Zevran's, and the assassin realized that at some point Nathaniel had shed his pants. His hardness brushed against Zevran's tortured member, and they both gasped. Zevran returned the kiss fervently, his tongue caressing Nathaniel's lips, his hands burying themselves in Nate's dark hair. With a desperate groan, Nathaniel sat up quickly and reached for the same oil he had used earlier. After coating two fingers, he slid them inside Zevran and began to slowly stroke and stretch the assassin's entrance. The contrast between the fire encompassing his member and the soothing, penetrating warmth behind was almost too much to bear. Zevran tasted sharp copper as he bit into his lower lip, fighting his need to release. Finally, the probing fingers withdrew, leaving him devastatingly empty and _wanting_.

Nathaniel's hands shook as he swiftly slicked his cock, eyes closing in pleasure as the warmth caused his erection to swell even more. Pushing Zevran's knees to his chest, he ran his fingernails along the red stripes marking Zevran's buttocks, briefly admiring his work. The assassin groaned, his fists pulling at the bed sheets. Nathaniel drank in the sight of his lover, _relishing_ the sight of Zevran driven to such submission, his every gasp and moan _begging_ for the sweet release that only Nathaniel had the power to give. After being at Zevran's mercy for the past several weeks, it was gratifying to know that he could push the assassin to the same depths of desire that he had experienced at Zevran's hands.

A snippet of memory threaded through the haze of his desire: _ if you wish to mark me, then I suppose that makes me yours. _With a growl of possessiveness, Nathaniel thrust roughly into his lover. Tight heat clenched around his member pulling him deeply inside, and Zevran's head fell back, mouth agape in silent ecstasy. Nathaniel gave him no mercy, but set a hard, almost violent pace. As they drew close to the edge, Nathaniel paused, leaning forward to whisper hoarsely in the elf's ear.

"You are _mine_, Zevran." He reached down and grasped Zevran's length firmly. The elf shuddered, his body struggling to hold back until he was given permission to release.

"_Si, querido. Si!_" Nathaniel closed his eyes at the Antivan endearment. He had learned some small amount of Antivan during his time in the Free Marches. Leaning forward, he tenderly kissed the hollow of Zevran's neck, then whispered quietly in the assassin's ear.

"_Come_ for me, Zevran. _Show_ me that you are mine." He gave Zevran's cock one long firm stroke.

Zevran convulsed, a hoarse cry wrenched from his throat as his length jerked in Nathaniel's hand and spurted. As his lover's muscles spasmed in pleasure around his member, Nathaniel moaned and thrust hard twice, coming so violently that it left him gasping for air. For several moments the two remained locked together, just breathing through the aftershocks of their orgasms. Nate withdrew gently and stood slowly, struggling to still his shaky legs. Zevran collapsed, gazing languidly up at his lover, eyes still glazed. Suddenly grinning, Nathaniel reached down and swiftly scooped a startled Zevran into his arms. The elf raised one eyebrow at him.

"So, is this where I bat my eyelashes and thank you for saving me from the dragon?" Nate laughed and moved to the corner of his room, where Zevran noticed for the first time that the tub was already filled with clean water.

"No, but I'll keep it in mind when we find a dragon to kill." Still smiling, he placed Zevran carefully in the water, which was surprisingly still warm. "I may be devious, but I don't intend to leave you suffering, Zev." Nate reached for a soft cloth and some scented soap, and gently began bathing the stinging oil from his lover. Zevran relaxed and allowed Nathaniel to wash and massage his skin, but his eyes watched Nate with an intensity that caused Nathaniel to skittishly avert his gaze from meeting those probing amber eyes. After he had finished, he gestured for Zevran to step out and proceeded to dry him off with a towel, accompanied by casual caresses. Then he reached for some poultices to place on Zevran's welts, but the assassin shook his head and grabbed Nate's arm. Pulling him close, the elf reached up and cupped Nathaniel's cheek, forcing Nate to meet Zevran's eyes.

"Leave it, Nathaniel. When my lover is passionate enough to leave marks on me, I prefer to keep them as a gift. And I rather hope there will be many more nights such as this. Am I wrong to think you agree?" His eyes were searching, and Nate's pulse quickened.

"Have you ever been wrong about me yet?" Hesitantly, Nathaniel stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Zevran's waist. "I would like you to stay at Vigil's Keep with the Wardens, Zev." He smiled somewhat shyly. "Actually, I mean that I want you to stay with _me_."

"Our dear Commander has seemed happy with my work with the recruits, and you have been a most _welcome _diversion." Smiling warmly, Zevran buried his fingers in Nate's hair and pulled him down for a kiss. "I don't plan on going anywhere without you, _mi querido_."


End file.
